


Miracle Drug

by Dormammu12



Category: Original Work
Genre: Belly Kink, Brother/Sister Incest, F/M, Incest, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Extension, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, Scientific Pregnancy, Sibling Incest, pharmaceuticals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29654058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dormammu12/pseuds/Dormammu12
Summary: In a world very similar to our own, Florent Laboratories developed a drug that could stave off labour indefinitely.That was three years ago.
Relationships: David Florent/Colette Florent
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am Dormammu12 on DeviantArt. My online presence may be viewed in its totality here: linktr . ee / dormammu12
> 
> I also take commissions. Contact me on dA for more.

There was a knock on the door.

“Occupied,” Max gasped, breasts heaving as she bucked desperately against her greedy fingers, and the woman on the other side made a small, affronted noise, heels clicking unsteadily away. Max waited until she was gone before resuming, fingers plunging as deep as they could go, head tossed back, mouth open and gaping -

There it is.

As the last remaining shreds of ecstasy faded away, Max sagged back against the toilet bowl, the buttons of her blouse straining as she panted. The sensation of the fabric tightening and loosening against the swollen mound of her stomach made her breath hitch and her ragged nethers ache once more, but Max grasped onto what remained of her self-restraint and wrestled her arousal back into its box. Fifteen minutes, she mouthed to herself. Fifteen minutes, and I’ll be home, and I can finger-fuck myself into Monday morning.

Carefully, she leaned over and switched off the miniature recorder hanging from the hook on the back of the cubicle door.

The door creaked open as she made her ungainly way out, the cold white lights blazing unflatteringly down over her face, and Max stuck her tongue out at her reflection and splashed her face with water a few times before deciding to return to her desk. She had only just settled back down when one of her more repulsive colleagues popped up by the exit, leering at her. “Quite the walk of shame, eh?”

Max snarled. “Fuck off, Julian.”

Julian chuckled. It was not a nice chuckle. “You’re masturbating on the job, Max. The company doesn’t care what you do in your spare time, but if it’s on company time - oh!” He pulled an exaggeratedly shocked expression. “That’s a very different thing.”

Max rolled her eyes. “You tell me this every Friday,” she sniped. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Today’s different,” Julian cackled. “While you were climaxing in your cubicle, Oliver announced that he was retiring.”

Max, who had begun shuffling her paperwork about her desk in a bid to avoid meeting her co-worker’s eyes, paused momentarily, but resumed immediately. Her brief pause had not gone unnoticed, however, and a fresh spurt of devilish glee entered Julian’s voice as he began to gloat, his voice taking on a saccharine, singsong tone.

“You can’t go into his office and shake your tits at him anymore, darling,” he crooned, dancing into full view as Max switched off her desktop, slipped what little paperwork she had into her little sling bag, and rose to her feet. “That dirty old man isn’t going to be around to protect you any longer. Management will force you to go on maternity leave, and then -”

Max bumped into him with her belly, and Julian practically choked on his words, eyes bulging as she drove him backwards into the wall, using her momentum to carry both of them forward. “Got to go,” she chirped, straightening her sleeves. “See you on Monday, Julian!”

She was gone before he could say another word, waddling down the corridors as fast as she could. He didn’t throw a parting snipe in her direction, though, which was nice, because it gave her time to think.

Oliver had been her last line of defense against Management. She’d been pregnant for two years, and they were aching to have her go on maternity leave, just so they could get out of paying her, but Oliver just kept begging off. The two of them had an arrangement, after all. Oliver had a thing for pregnant women, and Max - well, Max was just horny enough to be willing to countenance fucking a guy who was just about twice her age. It was possible that Oliver’s replacement would be just as horny as he was, but… well… how likely was it?

“Not bloody likely,” Max muttered. The student beside her, who had been staring at his phone, glanced at her and none-too-discreetly inched away.

Max knew some of the passengers on her daily commute by sight, though not a lot. There were about five or six of them, ranging from students to elderly folk wandering about town, and every last one of them had started to give her the hairy eyeball as she’d kept growing… and growing… and growing. None of them had ever bothered (or dared) to approach her over it, though, and for that she was thankful. Max liked it when people gave up their seats for her.

That reminds me, Max thought, stumbling out of the train and absently battering a blameless commuter out of her way using the sheer weight of her gut, I need to refill my prescription.

She picked up a steaming pack of Chinese food on her way back, and as the lift at her apartment block came to a stop at the fifth floor, she waddled out and knocked on Travis’ door.

Travis answered immediately, as was his wont. He knew her schedule, and she knew his. “Oh, hey -” he began.

Max cut him off, driving him back into his apartment with her sheer weight, and used her ballet flats (she was too big for heels at this point) to kick the door shut behind her. “I need more Fluoretine.”

“All in due course,” Travis slurred, eyes fixed on the all-too-visible outline of her industrial-strength bra. “I… um… I need my dinner.”

Max removed her coat and started to unbutton her blouse.

“No,” Travis said, “my other dinner.”

Max stopped unbuttoning her blouse and started to fiddle with the waistband of her pencil skirt.

“My Chinese food.”

“Oh.”

Slightly disappointed, Max handed Travis his dinner and settled into the ratty recliner. She always sat there when she came to his apartment. It was a much better place to perch than the disgusting, soiled sofa at Travis’ left hand, which was where most of his clients usually sat. As her meaty rump (it had started to really thicken in the last six months) wriggled against the seating, she winced. Was that a stray spring?

“So,” Travis volunteered, “did you have a good day?”

“Shut up and eat.”

Travis shut up and ate. Max wriggled a little more, mildly pleased at how she filled up the recliner, and pulled out her phone.

Her bank account was going to suffer if she got fired, which seemed likely. She barely got any work done these days, between fucking Oliver in his office and masturbating in the toilet, and most of her colleagues knew it. She wouldn’t find any friends from their end, and with Oliver gone, her head would be first on the chopping block. Being out of a job would free her up to devote herself to camming full-time, but… well… it would also cut her off from the stable salary that came with being a middling functionary in one of the largest insurance companies in town.

All was not yet lost, though. If she kept her spending stable, she might be able to sustain herself for at least a few more years. She’d have to tighten her belt (metaphorically), but it was possible. On the other hand -

“Max?”

Max looked up. Travis crooked a finger at her, eyes sweeping up and down as she heaved herself to her swollen feet, and cleared his throat. “I might be running low on the Fluoretine.”

“What?”

To his credit, Travis didn’t flinch. “My contact got fired. He won’t be able to get it to me anymore. I’ll try, of course, but you’re just about the only person I know who uses it. I might have to increase the price.”

Max started to undress. As her skirt fell to the ratty carpet in a heap, she stood before Travis, naked but for her lingerie, and raised an eyebrow.

Travis sighed. “This is about the bottom line, Max. The lowest I can go is… well… it’s almost fifty percent higher than what you’re already paying. No amount of sexual favours will lower my price.”

“What if I sit on you?”

Travis squinted. “Like, sexually?”

“No. I sit on your face, and you suffocate.”

“You’d need to access my list of contacts.” Travis kneaded the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t know why you like being pregnant so much, and I’m not complaining, but - have you possibly considered that you might not want to be pregnant forever?”

“Just give me the Fluoretine.”

Travis quoted a price.

Max counted out the bills and shoved them into his hand.

Once the small white pills were safely ensconced in her cleavage, Max pulled on her skirt and buttoned up her blouse. As she stepped out into the corridor, Travis called, “Does this mean we’re not having sex tonight?”

Max gave him the finger and slammed the door shut behind her.

Instead of taking the lift, she opted to take the stairs. It was hell on her thighs and calves, but the pain cleared her mind and made it easier to think. As one white-knuckled hand gripped onto the banister for dear life, the other found its way to the vast sphere of her gut, poking and prodding at its stretched-taut surface.

This was her first pregnancy.

Max had always wanted to be pregnant. Crucially, though, she had never wanted to be a mother, and she knew herself well enough to be certain that, if she did end up having children, she wouldn’t have the heart to put them up for adoption. The ideal had always been to be pregnant forever, and as she’d grown older, from a coltish sixteen-year-old to an attractive twenty-two-year-old, that dream had seemed to drift further and further away with each passing day.

Then Florent Laboratories had made The Announcement.

Fluoretine was a drug that would allow individuals carrying babies with birth defects to push their labour back as the necessary tweaks were made to their children’s genomes. Down’s Syndrome would be eliminated completely, as would most other well-known congenital conditions. The country had responded favourably.

Max had responded favourably as well.

A year after The Announcement had been made, Max got her hands on her first dosage of Fluoretine. Three months after that, she was pregnant. And twenty-four months after that, she was still pregnant, and -

And there was someone standing outside her apartment.

Max paused at the stairwell and caught her breath, removing her hand from her belly and grasping onto the banister for dear life. “Er,” she squeaked, tentatively, “who - who’s there?”

“Maxine Auerbach?”

It was a woman.

“That’s me,” Max replied, warily, not moving another step. “And you are…”

The person standing outside her apartment turned, and Max inhaled sharply. She could see now that the woman waiting for her was hugely pregnant, even larger than her, and dressed so impeccably that she made Max feel shabby in comparison. A fresh, fruity scent wafted to her nose, and as Max stood, mouth hanging open, by the stairwell, the woman walked (well, waddled) right up to her, the apex of her belly stopping just short of Max’s own navel, and extended a hand.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Colette Florent. “Can we talk?”

\-----

“Can I get you something?” Max asked, once they’d ducked into her apartment. “Tea? Coffee?”

“Do you have raspberry leaf?” Colette Florent called.

“I’ll get us two cups,” Max replied, turning around and leaning against the sink, heart pounding in her chest. Her whole body was warm - well, warmer than usual - and there was a distinct sense of unreality pervading her whole being. Gently, she pinched her cheek and winced at the pain. Guess I’m not dreaming, then.

Colette Florent was the first woman to experience the effects of Fluoretine. Her brother, David, who had cured AIDS and invented various novel methods of commercial genetic engineering, had developed Fluoretine as a means to prevent her from giving birth to a baby with progeria until the disorder could be cured. (At least, that was how the official story had gone.)

She was also about forty months pregnant.

“Oh, thank you,” Colette Florent enthused. She had perched herself on one end of Max’s small couch, and did not seem to be overly concerned by the mess on the coffee table. Her voice was soft, musical and sweet. “I know it stimulates contractions, but raspberry leaf is just so tasty. Don’t you agree?”

Max blinked. “Uh. Yes?”

Colette Florent leaned over and lowered her voice, and Max - her curiosity piqued - leaned in as well. “I mean, that’s what I tell everyone else,” she whispered. “Actually, I drink raspberry leaf tea because it stimulates contractions. David says it helps to test the strength of his concoction, and as for me…”

Max waited, the hair on the back of her neck prickling as the sensation of the other woman’s warm breath on her ear.

“… well, I drink it because the contractions make me cum.”

Colette Florent pulled back, her enigmatic smile having given way to a small, devilish grin, and Max grinned back.

“I guess,” she ventured, uncertainly, “I guess… that means… we’re the same?”

Colette Florent nodded. “There’s not a lot of us,” she murmured, “but I wouldn’t say that we’re a vanishingly small minority, either.” She paused, rubbing the upper hemisphere of her belly thoughtfully, and brushed idly at a lock of hair that had slipped free of her complicated-looking braid. “I’ll be honest with you, Ms Auerbach. I’m looking to bring together women… women like us. Women who don’t use Fluoretine out of necessity, but for… well…”

“For pleasure?”

“Well, pleasure and money.”

Max flushed.

“Don’t be a prude, Ms Auerbach. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s the world’s oldest profession.” Colette Florent’s smile turned wicked. “And, besides, it’s their money. Their money, and their mistakes.” Before Max could respond, she bulldozed on. “I’m trying to bring together a… hm… a community. I’m going to try and see if we - women like us - can bulldoze our way into the mainstream market. Normalize attitudes, so to speak.” She paused for breath. “What do you think?”

Max thought.

“Will I get paid for this?”

Colette Florent gave her a number. That, more than anything else, helped to clarify her thought process.

“I’m in.”

“Oh, very good.” Colette Florent grinned again, broadly and brilliantly, and raised her cup of raspberry leaf tea. “To Fluoretine!”

“To Fluoretine!”

They clinked cups and drank down the tea in one shot.

\-----

“My belly is getting so big,” Maxine Auerbach whispered.

The entirety of David’s ultrawide monitor was filled with the sight of her, all-but-poured into a pinstriped button-up vest. It was so tight that it was visibly straining at the seams, and as her fingers travelled sensuously over the pale white diamonds of flesh that showed through the fabric, his cock stiffened in his hand. “I’ve put on this vest just to see how big I’ve grown… and I’ve grown, haven’t I?” She bit her lip, eyelids fluttering, and he leaned forward, mesmerized. “It’s like a big beachball -”

There was a gentle chime.

David closed his eyes, groaning under his breath, and pulled his pants back on. Adjusting his posture, he twisted his neck, the bones in his spine grinding, and discarded Auerbach’s delectable little video to be savoured at a later date. With a flick of his finger, he answered the call and grinned as Colette appeared onscreen. “How did it go?”

“Perfectly.”

A look of half-arousal, half-pain crossed his twin’s face, then, and David shook his head. “I’m assuming you drank too much raspberry leaf tea again, eh?”

“She had a great deal of it on hand,” Colette retorted innocently. “How could I have refused?”

David shook his head again, sighing, and extended his hands in surrender. “I miss you.”

Colette made an expression that mirrored his - half-desperate, half-aroused - and adjusted her phone. “I miss you too.” A pause. “Wanna… you know?”

David raised an eyebrow. “I’d much rather have you here in the flesh,” he growled.

“It’s barely been twenty-four hours, you clingy baby.”

“Who’s the baby here?”

Instead of replying, Colette made a small noise of annoyance and moved her phone back, positioning it as carefully as she could. David, for his part, adjusted his screen until he could see all of her, high-cheeked and fine-boned, large-breasted and wide-hipped, swollen and overripe.

“How do you like the hotel?”

“It’s got a wonderful pool. I might try it out later.” Colette had tossed aside her coat, and was pulling off her tweed sweater. As David watched, cock firmly back in hand, she wriggled out of her leggings - taking her pantyhose with them - and cast both items of clothing onto the bed with a grunt.

“Have fun.”

“I will.” Colette looked up, then, briefly taking her attention off of her snug, lacy, custom-made bra. “You won’t be upset if I fuck anyone, will you?”

“You keep asking me this question,” David laughed. “How could I be upset? You’ve done so much for me.”

Colette put a hand to her heart. “Oh,” she sighed. “Your charity astounds.”

Then she kicked off her panties and removed her bra.

David leaned forward.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am Dormammu12 on DeviantArt. My online presence may be viewed in its totality here: linktr . ee / dormammu12
> 
> I also take commissions. Contact me on dA for more.

Cain Abraham Wilson was a huge, hulking brute of a man, all rippling muscles and barbed-wire tattoos, and as he stared at her, piercing brown eyes cutting deep into her soul, Corinna quaked in her chair. It was the third time that she’d approached him for help, but it felt somehow as though she was here for the first time.

“Are you sure you want this?” Cain asked. His voice was surprisingly gentle.

Corinna nodded.

Cain sighed. “I can never say no to you,” he muttered, under his breath, and produced a small packet from a nearby drawer, which he tossed at her. Corinna’s reflexes were just a tad too slow, though, and as she struggled futilely to bend over, Cain bent down and picked the packet up for her, pressing it into her hand. “Are you seriously making enough to afford this?”

Corinna nodded again.

Cain whistled, impressed. “Jesus.” Silence fell as he looked her over. “You need help?”

Corinna, red-faced, nodded. For the third time.

As her university’s resident drug dealer leaned forward and heaved her out of her chair, she tottered, unsteadily, in her preloved Vans sneakers, and squeaked, “Thank you.” Then she turned around, the sheer weight of her belly forcing her to spread her legs a little, and waddled out of Cain’s dorm. He watched her go.

“God damn,” Cain Abraham Wilson mumbled, half-contemplatively, half-appreciatively, and went to jerk off.

\-----

“- whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Therefore, the solution to this problem -”

A flurry of whispers rose.

“Ah. Ms Lieger,” Professor Kotarski said, voice dwindling in volume. “Please, have a seat.”

Mutely, Corinna nodded. As quickly as she could, she made her way up the stairs and slid into a seat which had been reserved for her by her friends. As her sneakers padded up over the steps, her classmates pulled their bags aside to make it easier for her to find her footing, and Corinna felt a little thrill spark down her spine at the gesture. It feels nice to be accommodated, she thought, a little wistfully. It feels nice to take up space.

Since she couldn’t fit her chair’s built-in writing tablet over her belly, she placed her notebook on her stomach and used it as a table, as she’d been doing for the past two weeks. Her friends lent her their notes to copy from, and the rest of the lecture went smoothly. After it was over, all four of them trooped down to the university cafeteria to get food. “It’s always good to have Corinna with us,” Mark joked, while they were waiting in line. “She’s like Moses, parting the Red Sea of annoying freshmen and overbearing seniors.”

There was much laughter. Corinna smiled too, a little uncertainly, as she always did when she wasn’t sure if she was being made fun of, and discreetly rested the huge weight of her belly atop the cafeteria rails. With her tray balanced precariously atop of her stomach, she was able to forget the enormous weight of her womb, albeit briefly, and could take a few quick, precious breaths of air before it was time for her to receive her lunch allotment for the day.

Daniel nudged her. “So,” he began, a little conspiratorially, inducing the others to lean in, “when are the little tykes due?”

Corinna shook her head. “Still not due yet,” she managed. “Just a little while more to go.”

“Really?” Julia gasped. “But you look just about ready to pop!”

Corinna laughed awkwardly with the rest of them as they made their way to a nearby booth and arranged themselves into the usual configuration. She, as was typical, was allocated a spot on the outside, so she could shuffle off to the bathroom whenever she wanted. The cafeteria vendors usually gave her more food than usual, but Corinna could never stomach it all, so she often ended up shoving most of it over to Mark.

“I should go and have a word with your doctor,” Daniel continued. “I mean, even I can tell that this whole thing is really taking a toll on you, Corinna. Seriously.”

Corinna opened her mouth, but Julia spoke first. “Don’t be too hasty, Dan,” she chided, snuggling up against her boyfriend. “I’m sure he knows best. Right, Corinna?”

“Yeah,” Corinna muttered. “Yeah, sure.”

It wasn’t long before they had retired for the evening. Julia had yet another party to attend, and so it was just Corinna, sitting alone in her dorm, munching listlessly on a packet of Doritos, glancing at her stopwatch every once in a while. There had been a few occasions, in the past, when Julia had dropped by to pick up something that she’d left behind. After fifteen minutes had elapsed, though, it would probably be safe for her to do… well… it would be safe for her to do what she normally did when Julia wasn’t around.

As the stopwatch ticked over the fourteen-minute mark, Corinna struggled to her feet and tossed the empty pack of Doritos into the dustbin. “Showtime,” she whispered, patting herself down, running her hands over all of her curves (of which there were a great deal), psyching herself up. “I’m cute. I’m sexy. I’m powerful. Let’s go. Let’s fucking go.”

Her webcam was on, and as the numbers started to tick inexorably upwards, Corinna felt something latch onto her soul, pulling it out of the dreariness of her daily life. Here, she was exciting. Here, she was a goddess. As the baleful white eye of her webcam blazed over her, she loosened her ponytail and freed her hair from the severe restrictions to which it was subject on most days.

By the time she’d put on her lipstick, she’d made seventy-five dollars. And all she’d had to do was greet people as they entered the chatroom.

The math is solid. Even accounting for the cost of the Fluoretine, you’re making enough to pay off your debt. No, more than enough. By the time you graduate, you’ll be free.  Free.

That was a nice thought to end the night with.

Corinna closed her eyes.

Goddess_C opened her eyes.

“Hello, boys,” she purred, fluttering her eyelashes, and watched as the trickle of cash started to dribble faster and faster. One hand kneaded at her pyjama top, which was so scandalously tight that she only wore it in her dorm. The other ran over the exposed lower half of her belly, strumming her stretch-marks as one might caress the strings of a guitar, and darted still lower, to her panties, which were only visible to her when she looked at her webcam feed. “How are we doing tonight?”

Small talk was normal. Small talk was expected. Goddess_C carried on in that vein for a while, laughing, socializing, chatting up a storm about everything and nothing, and after the initial flood of viewers had begun to leak away, she pulled out a tablet of Fluoretine, to pull them back and focus their attention. “Got this from a friend today,” she whispered, eyes glinting mischievously, “I need to take one tablet once a week, but as I get closer… and closer…” She arched her back, pushing her enormous gut outwards, and smirked as more people dove into the chatroom. “… well, I think I’ll need to take Fluoretine more and more often. I just… well, I don’t know.”

A question from the floor. How long do you want to be pregnant for?

Goddess_C pretended to think it over, sticking out her tongue, glancing around, hemming and hawing. “I guess I don’t know,” she answered, eventually. “All I know is… I’m not giving birth any time soon.”

And she swallowed the Fluoretine dry.

A few minutes later, she was on her feet, gyrating languidly (which was the only way she could dance, these days), juddering from side to side, mouthing the words to a soft, sexy Justin Timberlake song, stripped down to her underwear. A brief distortion creased the surface of her stomach as one of the babies dragged its finger over the interior of her womb, and Goddess_C took another peek at the numbers on her side of the screen.

Wow, that’s a lot.

Another question from the floor. How many are you having?

“Three,” Goddess_C said, savouring the word as it left her mouth. “And I’m almost at forty weeks. How would you like to imagine me at forty-four, gentlemen? Hmmm? Forty-eight? Fifty?”

She was getting wet. This was how it always ended.

Now Goddess_C was on her bed, her thickening thighs spread, the vibrator that she kept under lock and key buzzing merrily away. “Fifty-one,” she gasped, as the number on the screen ticked up and up and up. “Oh, will I be able to move by that time? I’ll be dead on my feet, I will. They’ll have to cart me around on a palanquin. Which of you would volunteer for the task? Oh, is that all of you? That’d be wonderful. And which of you will rub lotion on my belly, and massage my poor, aching navel? I don’t know if I’ll be able to reach - to reach \- ah -”

It wasn’t until the last reverberations of her orgasm had faded away that Goddess_C noticed that the door to her dorm was open.

Julia was standing in the doorway, Daniel half-hanging off her shoulder. His stance made him look as though he was drunk, but from the way he was staring at her, he was fully sober. “The party ended early,” Julia said, a little numbly. “We… we came back to…”

Corinna snapped back to herself. “I -” She turned around, back to the webcam, and slammed her laptop shut so hard that she heard something (probably its screen) break. “I can explain, Julia. I can -”

Julia started to laugh. She laughed so hard that faces started to crowd at the door, peering into their room, staring at the hugely pregnant girl who was perched on the edge of her bed, desperately trying to pack a still-whirring vibrator back into its case, gawking at her red face, at her enormous, sagging, veiny breasts, and at the angry, crimson stretch-marks that covered every available inch of skin. Wasn’t that Corinna Lieger? they asked. I’ve never seen her with less than two layers of clothes on before. I didn’t know that was how she looked like underneath. Ew.

“Let’s go to your dorm, Dan,” Julia wheezed, once she’d finally finished laughing, and they left without another word. Corinna stumbled to the door, covering herself with a towel, and slammed it shut.

Then she cried.

\-----

Cain was on his way back from the gym when he came across Corinna Lieger.

He wasn’t sure if it was her, at first, but when she turned around, knocking a carefully-stacked pile of snacks to the floor, the sheer protrusion of her middle was confirmation enough. Cain, who had been strolling past, taking in the cool, early-morning breeze, froze, goosebumps prickling on the back of his neck, and made a snap decision.

Corinna had dropped to her knees, her belly brushing against the floor, and the clerk at the counter was advancing on her, his face a mask of dismay. Cain pushed his way into the store, bent down, and started to help her to pick up the snacks. They weren’t really his thing, but he bought a few, just to calm the clerk down, and when Corinna - inevitably - found that she was unable to get up, he extended one hand and pulled her to her feet. Her face was pale, paler than when he’d last seen her, and her hair was a rat’s nest, unruly and tangled. She’d thrown on a hoodie, but it didn’t fit, and Cain could see a thick, creamy half-moon of flesh peeking out the bottom. It’s like she’s strapped a beach-ball to her torso, he thought, irreverently, and bit his tongue.

“You don’t look so good,” he tried, as they left the convenience store, arms laden with plastic bags, and Corinna chuckled bleakly, pushing her portable shopping trolley in front of her.

“You think?”

Cain shrugged. Most of the stuff which he was carrying were Corinna’s purchases; according to the clerk, she dropped by twice a week. There was a lot of food, though. “I heard about the…”

“Yeah. The Julia thing.” After that incident, Corinna’s ex-friend had moved to her boyfriend’s dorm. Technically, it was against the rules, but the administration hadn’t done anything, and as far as Cain was aware, none of his schoolmates had spoken up against it, either. Corinna hadn’t shown up to classes in a fortnight.

“My parents are furious,” Corinna muttered, glancing to the side, and Cain took advantage of her momentary distraction to sneak a peek at her face. She’d grown a little puffier, and dark circles had appeared beneath her eyes. She looked fragile, brittle, and sad. Cain felt bad for her. “They called me a whore.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Cain remarked, with feeling, and Corinna tensed. They stepped into the lift in silence, and as the doors slid open, Cain held the door for her and watched as she jiggled out into the corridor. The door to her dorm clicked open, and she looked over her shoulder, a hard, flinty smile on her face.

“Wanna come in?”

Cain stepped over the threshold and set her bags down on the counter. “You can keep the snacks if you want them.”

In addition to her ridiculously ill-fitting hoodie, Corinna had forced herself into a ragged pair of tracksuit bottoms. Her ass filled it out very nicely, and Cain found himself following the sway of her hips as she wandered around the room. It hadn’t been cleaned in some time, and items of clothing were scattered across the two beds. One of the beds, quite obviously, was messier than the other, and had to have been the bed formerly occupied by Julia. Corinna sat down, the metal frame creaking under her weight, and gestured vaguely at the other.

“So, what have you been doing?” Cain ventured, arranging himself gingerly onto her bed.

Corinna tilted her head, a little coquettishly, and Cain’s cock stirred. “I’ve been streaming,” she said, dryly, and removed her hoodie. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Cain’s eyes travelled over the ripe sacks of her breasts, which rested primly on the shelf of her belly, and down, down, down, taking in her wide hips and succulent rear as she wriggled, wormlike, out of her tracksuit bottoms. She wasn’t wearing anything down there, either, but it was hard to tell, what with her stomach blocking any view of her nethers. “Streaming. You know what that is, right -”

“I know,” Cain croaked.

Corinna leaned back, onto the bed, and flung out her arm at her laptop, which - Cain noticed - was still on. A prominent crack ran across its screen, but its webcam was still on, and as he refocused on the feed, he realized that there were hundreds watching her talk to him. For some reason, this didn’t unsettle him.

“I go by Goddess_C,” Corinna continued. “You can take a look, if you want.”

Cain’s cock stirred again, and he realized that it was now or never. If he didn’t open his mouth now, nothing would ever happen. This was his chance. Corinna was looking at him, a queer look in her eye, and if it was arousal, then -

There was a knock on the door.

“Ms Lieger?”

Cain closed his mouth. Corinna turned to the door, slightly shaken, and heaved herself to her feet, stumbling across the floor to the door. She peeked through the keyhole, gasped, and opened it. As Cain stared, a tall, willowy blonde walked in, her great globe of a stomach preceding the rest of her, and shook Corinna’s hand. “I’m Colette Florent,” she was saying. “I’ve heard from your professors that you’re majoring in biochemistry. They say you’re quite promising.” As she let go, she turned to Cain, a slightly dismissive slant to her gaze, and raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, is this a bad time?”

“Oh, no,” Corinna stammered, hastily, and Cain found that she was no longer sad, or brittle, or fragile. She seemed hopeful, for whatever reason, and -

“Cain, thanks for helping to bring up my food.”

“No problem,” Cain said, the words coming to him as though from across a great chasm, and let himself out.

\-----

“This is Max,” Ms Florent began, waving her hand rather grandly, and Corinna blinked.

“Um, hi?”

“You’ll be rooming together for the time being,” Ms Florent continued, smiling benevolently as Corinna and Max shook hands. “I hope the room is not too cramped.”

(The room was at least twice as big as Corinna’s old dorm.)

After Ms Florent had swept away, Corinna sat on her bed, feeling a little lost, and stared at nothing. The trip away from her university - where she’d spent the past two years - had left her feeling oddly exhausted. It wasn’t that she was feeling sentimental. No, it wasn’t like that at all. She just felt as though…

As though she had no fucks left to give.

That was a very Goddess_C thought to have.

That’s a good sign, I guess.

“Raspberry leaf tea?”

“Sure.” Corinna took the cup gratefully from the older woman and fell into an ornate-looking chair. The small, round table at which they were sitting looked out over the city, and it seemed as though a storm was on the horizon. “Do you…” She wet her lips. “Do you drink it because it gives you contractions?”

Max nodded.

“Same.”

“Colette tells me she does it too.”

A pause.

“You can call her Collette, you know. Just as you can call me Max. I’m twenty-five.”

“I’m twenty.”

“Quadruplets?”

“Triplets, actually.”

Max whistled admiringly, and Corinna blushed. It was not an unpleasant sensation. “I think most of us have just the one. That’s a real gift, triplets.”

They settled into a comfortable silence.

“Colette says that once we’ve picked up the last one, it’ll just be a few hours ‘till we hit the house where we’ll be staying.” Max tapped at her phone and leaned over the table to show it to Corinna, but her belly got in the way, and so did Corinna’s. “Damn. I’ll, uh, I’ll slide it over.”

“It looks nice.”

“It looks great, honestly.” Max planted her elbows on the table and pressed her palms against her cheeks. “I’ve never worn a bikini before, but the way that pool looks - jeez. I think I’ll have to start.”

“Who’s next?”

“A pair of twins, apparently -”

The doorbell chimed, and Max looked up. “Oh, that must be our lunch. I’ll get the door.”


End file.
